


A Look, a Dance

by Oh_Contrary



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aliens bein creeps, Coming In Pants, Cuddles, Drinking, Frottage, Jealous Keith (Voltron), Jen brings it out of me blame her, Loverboy Lance, M/M, Mature Rating because of soft smut stuff, Mutual Pining, Schmoop, but also like, pants stay on, so there's that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 14:39:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oh_Contrary/pseuds/Oh_Contrary
Summary: What would it be like to have Keith's arms wrapped around him for real, not as a distraction? And that look. What would it be like for it to mean jealousy, to mean desire? Lance shuddered, heat curling at the base of his spine before he stopped, sobering quickly as he remembered the serious way Keith had named him ‘my paladin.’





	A Look, a Dance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inkspottedandbrokenhearted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkspottedandbrokenhearted/gifts).



> A Happy happy Birthday to my beta, my darling, and forever muse [jenners1207.](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenners1207/pseuds/jenners1207) There is literally no one else i could write this much fluff for without combusting. 
> 
> Fluff ahead! I know, I don't believe it either, but it's there. Some minor smut. Some minor drinking as well, but not enough to be an issue.
> 
> Per usual, let me know if there are any content/trigger warnings I should add!
> 
> Happy birthday my lovely.
> 
> Besos from space-os,  
> ~Tay

In Lance’s defense, it was never supposed to go this far. He was flirting, as he does, but how was he supposed to know that the Princess of Gortal was going to respond? Especially after hearing her and her friends describing humans as “bizarrely hairless”— I mean, this had seemed like safe territory. Nevertheless, here he was, trapped against the dessert table with one of her hands sliding up the outside of his thigh.  

He wished he was in his armor. Their Gortal hosts had given them all traditional clothes for the celebration— high waisted pants and loose fitting shirts that, honestly, were rather comfortable. But it meant that there was no hard barrier stopping Lance from feeling every press of her fingers as they moved up and up—

“Your highness!” he yelped, as she reached the curve of his hip, fingers creeping around to his rear. He looked around uselessly, searching for another team member, but the party was in full swing. It would be a surprise if anyone noticed.

“Yes my paladin?” she purred, leaning close. He stumbled back into the dessert table causing the dishes’ strange gelatinous configurations to jiggle. “Come now, where’s that ‘Loverboy Lance’ I’ve heard so much of? And you speak so sweetly—”

“Princess, I’m truly flattered, but—”

Her grip tightened and she pulled him quickly forwards, pressing him against her as she leaned down to press her cold nose against his ear. Lance flinched.

“Surely you aren’t going to deny a royal and ally, Lance,” she said firmly, a growl rumbling in her chest. “Come now, you all but asked for this.” Lance froze, eyes going wide before narrowing. He raised his hands to her shoulders, pushing against her bulk.

“Forgive me,” he started, “but I see no correlation between me complimenting your dress and you cornering me against a table.” He pushed firmly against her shoulders, forcing her back before stepping away with a smile. “Now if you'll excuse me, princess,” he spat the title with as much vitriol he could muster, “but I must be getting back to the others.”

He turned on his heel, keen on hightailing it across the crowded ballroom. But within a few paces, he collided with someone, bouncing off of them and tumbling towards the ground, only to be caught in a flash and whirled upright. When the room stopped spinning, he was standing in front of Keith, whose face was a determined scowl. Lance gulped, moving to pull away, but Keith’s hands were tight on his waist.

“This way,” he said gruffly, shifting his hold so he could pull Lance across the ballroom, one hand tight against the small of his back and the other poised over the sheath of his Marmora blade. They made it to the far side of the ballroom and Keith tucked Lance between himself and Shiro.

He turned and looked back into the crowd, face still stern as he searched. Lance looked also, searching surreptitiously for the princess of Gortal in addition to whatever apparent threat Keith was wary of.

“What’s wrong?” he finally asked, seeing nothing. Keith startled, turning to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” Keith asked, puzzlement clear in his voice. “Lance, she looked like she was about to eat you. Are you okay?” He leaned in close, eyes running over him and hands reaching quickly towards Lance’s hips where he had seen the princess’s hands roaming before he stopped himself. He looked up at Lance’s face, only to find Lance gazing at him with an unreadable expression, lips quirked in an odd smile. Their eyes met and they found themselves frozen. The concern in Keith’s gaze melted into contentment as he looked at Lance, his blue eyes twinkling beneath the ballroom’s chandeliers. Lance swayed on his feet, leaning ever so slightly forwards and Keith held his breath, eyes flickering practically on accident to Lance’s lips (although it was a mistake he’d been making a lot recently). They moved, once then again, forming words Keith didn’t hear, too distracted by the longing pooling in his chest.

“Keith!” It came with fingers going tight on his arm as Lance reclaimed his attention. He snapped back to reality, blushing at his own (likely obvious) lost moment. “She’s heading this way,” Lance said, voice insistent as he moved closer, all but tucking himself into Keith’s chest.

“I’ve got the princess,” Shiro said from behind them. “Keith, can you handle this?” he asked, tone teasing as he looked Keith over. Keith blushed, swallowed once, then nodded. He took Lance in his arms, one hand taking one of his and the other finding the center of his back, before pulling them out onto the dancefloor.

They moved easily as they danced, more easily than Lance would have expected from Keith— then again, he had always been light on his feet in a fight. That seemed to extend to situations like this. Before Lance knew it, one song had turned into two and two into five.

Finally, there were no more excuses for them to stay so close together, swirling across the dancefloor. The princess had long since given up on Lance, circling up with her friends and sending scathing looks at the pair, but Keith never let go of Lance and Lance never asked him to. Finally, by their tenth song, Lance excused himself, to get some water, his face flushed from the exertion and a smile on his lips. Keith smiled, watching him go.

“Ahem,” came a familiar voice.

“Don’t—”

“That was an awful lot of dancing, Keith,” Shiro said. Even without looking at him, Keith could see the waggle of his eyebrows.

“It was just to keep him away from the princess—”

“And the other five songs?”

     “Shiro—”

“You don’t like to dance, Keith.”

“Well, I like dancing with him, okay?” Keith snapped, turning to look at Shiro, who, rather than looking abashed, was grinning. “Unbelievable,”

Keith grumbled, turning back to look at Lance— only to find him gone. He looked quickly about, shocked to find him again on the dancefloor, this time looking small and uncomfortable in the grip of a diplomat. Keith clenched his jaw, but said nothing,watching from a distance as Lance played the part of of diplomatic socialite with grace, smiling and talking all the while.

Over his new partner’s shoulder, Lance caught Keith’s eye, a brief, fleeting moment of connection. When their gazes met, the heat simmering in Keith's eyes shocked him. He was ashamed to admit it, but it made heat pool in his gut. Keith looked jealous, looked possessive. It sent a thrill down Lance’s spine.

“Cold, young paladin?” his partner asked. Lance blushed.

“A draft from the balcony, I guess,” he lied, attempting to refocus and get through the song. Instead, his brain was just a mess of Keith’s eyes and that look.

He was probably just worried. He was their leader after all, and Lance was his paladin. Not _his_ his but his… adjacent? Beneath? —Do not think of yourself beneath Keith— oh god—

Suddenly, mercifully, the song ended, and Lance escaped, barely managing to thank the tall Gortal for the dance before nearly running from the ballroom. He passed Allura who called his name but he ignored her. He made it into the hall and tucked himself into an alcove, heart pounding not from his dash but from—

“Lance?” he heard Keith call. He held his breath, hoping against hope that Keith would pass him by— “There you are. Are you okay?”

Before Lance could say anything, he’d been pulled out of his hiding spot, Keith checking him over carefully, taking Lance’s hands and tugging them up to examine him as if looking for physical damages.

“What did he do? Was he creeping on you too? You ran out of there like you were fleeing the princess again—”

“N-no,” Lance stuttered, desperate at this point to just stop that look in Keith’s eye, that possessive, protective gleam. “I...I just started not feeling well. I— I thought I might throw up,” he finished, realizing that it wasn’t truly a lie. Even now, his stomach was doing flips.

Keith’s brow furrowed and he stepped closer, causing Lance to stumble back into the alcove. Keith caught him by the arm, pulling him back upright. His eyes filled with concern. He moved one hand down to hold Lance’s wrist, the other raising to brush against his forehead.

“You’re warm and flushed,” Keith murmured. He squeezed Lance’s wrist gently. “Your pulse is fast, too. Have you been feeling like this all night?”

Lance looked at him wide eyed, nodding dumbly, before realizing the question.

“No, No. Just the past few minutes. I, uh, was feeling kind of nauseous, so I’m just gonna go back to my room and lay down,” Lance managed, extricating his wrist from Keith’s grasp and edging around the alcove walls and into the hallway.

“Let me help you get there.”

“That’s really not necessary. You should go back to the party—”

“Lance, let me make sure you’re okay.”

“It’s really fine—” Keith reached out, taking Lance’s hand and coming to stand beside him. He stepped close, still holding Lance’s hand and Lance’s heart fluttered in his chest. That look came back to Keith’s eye and Lance held his breath.

“Lance, you’re my paladin,” Keith said firmly. ”It’s my job to make sure you’re okay.”

“Oh,” Lance said, deflating. “Right.”

They walked silently through the corridors to the guest wing. Lance said nothing the entire time, hugging his arms to his chest. Nevertheless, Keith stayed by his side, one hand a press of heat at the small of his back as he escorted Lance to the door of the room he’d been assigned.

“Thank you, Keith,” Lance said smally, hoping it came off as ill instead of suddenly, if confusingly, disheartened.

“Good night, Lance,” Keith said gently, his voice earnest and soft. Lance stepped inside, closing the door slowly on what had been an odd night.

Dancing with Keith had been… nice. Really nice. It had been easy. Keith had been surprisingly fun, playful even, as he’d whirled Lance around the floor, whispering little jokes about the party and glaring unabashedly at the princess whenever she would edge towards them. He had dipped Lance at every opportunity and Lance had never been more aware of the other boy’s arms.

What would it be like to have them wrapped around him for real, not as a distraction? And that look. What would it be like for it to mean jealousy, to mean desire? Lance shuddered, heat curling at the base of his spine before he stopped, sobering quickly as he remembered the serious way Keith had named him ‘my paladin.’

Teammate. Associate I have to rescue and take responsibility for. There didn't seem to be a romantic possibility there.

Nevertheless, as Lance climbed into bed, he found himself unable to escape that look. Unable to escape the longing it created.

And then the look kept happening. As the team made their way through the universe, they visited more places, taking more missions and attending more welcome parties. Apparently, in the time they’d been absent, video of their shows had circulated from planet to planet. This meant that when they finally arrived somewhere, the people seemed to have a strong sense already of who they were, some even going so far as to actually refer to Allura as Keith until the correction was made (and only ever with limited success). But this also meant that the “Loverboy Lance” profile was now well known.

Sometimes, it just meant Lance got extra attention from kids (who would watch the films over and over with their friends) and they would bring him small gifts of flowers and drawings. Those nights were fun, and he was more than willing to indulge them, sitting with them in a corner and telling stories of missions. The others would usually join in, helping recreate the scene with sound effects and the occasional exaggerated detail. It was fun and they would always receive thankful looks from the parents, who seemed thrilled that the once mythic heroes of Voltron were becoming real ones for their children.

Then there was the issue of older individuals looking for attention from ‘Loverboy Lance.’ That was when the look came back. Keith remembered Lance having been popular, but this was out of control. It seemed no matter where they went there was someone ready to confuse his stage persona with his real self. Not everybody took the news particularly well. Lance had been pushed against more tables and walls at recent parties than on all their missions combined. But, in some twisted way, he couldn’t bring himself to hate it. Was it frustrating? Yes. Sometimes it was scary, or in the case of the Forgus— slime exuding, reptilians from a swamp planet— gross. But it was also when he would get the look.

For Lance, it became a habit: as soon as he found himself trapped in a conversation he didn’t like or dancing with some creep with wandering hands, he would feel the look on him. He would be able to look outside whatever interaction he was in and find Keith, watching carefully for Lance’s discomfort and finding an excuse to whisk him away, either leading him over to Shiro for a very serious looking fake conversation or, Lance’s favorite, snatching him up for a dance.

It became Lance’s favorite part of any evening: dancing with Keith. Sometimes it had to be strategic, moving them across and around the dancefloor to the nearest hallway or balcony, where Keith would check Lance over with worried but careful hands (Lance had stopped protesting. He adored the small touches). But sometimes the dances were just that, the move and sway of them together.Somehow over the weeks, they’d moved closer and closer together, and now they danced chest to chest, Keith’s hand tight on Lance’s waist to hold him close. Sometimes Lance’s head would fall to Keith’s shoulder and he would close his eyes, just relishing in being held.

And then at the end of the night, Keith would walk Lance back to his room, claiming it was his duty as Black paladin to see him back safely. Every time, Lance’s heart seemed to shrink in his chest.

Which is probably why, the next time an exuberant prince approached him at a celebration, he maintained eye contact. He laughed at their jokes and let them lead him onto the dancefloor. When they showed him out onto the balcony, he went willingly, leaning into the hand on his lower back. When they plucked a drink off of a passing tray, Lance grabbed one too. Soon, Lance was giggly, leaning heavily against his partner as they moved and they had no trouble holding him close and whispering little things in his ear.

The entire time, Lance felt that look— the jealousy, the possessiveness— following him across the ballroom, following the prince’s hands as they slipped down Lance’s waist to his hips, following the roll of Lance’s head at he threw his head back to laugh, looking at the expanse of smooth skin on his neck that the action revealed.

Keith clenched his fists at his side, having long since abandoned his own glass for fear of breaking it, as the prince leaned in, brushing his nose against Lance’s neck before leaning up to whisper in his ear. Lance’s eyes went wide before he dissolved into giggles.

“If you’re this upset, you should talk to him,” Shiro said. Keith shook his head.

“If he needs me, he always sends a look and tonight he looks—” his stomach churned “—he looks like he’s enjoying himself,” he finished reluctantly.

“He also looks drunk,” Shiro said pointedly. “Aren’t you worried? You heard what Coran said about the Hiran and pheromones.”

“Of course I am,” Keith snapped. “But I’m not just going to cut in and drag him away from his new friend.”

“Just don’t let your jealousy make you blind to when he needs you,” Shiro said, eyes straying again to where Lance and the prince were gliding across the floor, the prince leading Lance who was, now that Keith looked closer, growing more and more wobbly in his arms. He clenched his jaw, straightened his shoulders, and began to approach.

Lance didn’t notice him. He hadn’t realized how much he loved when Lance noticed him. He’d always known Lance was attractive, but with recent missions he’d really shown how he’d grown in his time in space. He was practically co-leading Voltron with Keith. He always had their backs in the field yet could come in after a long day and make everyone smile. Keith needed that. He _loved_ that. He loved the way Lance spoke, the way his voice would lilt over jokes. The way he sometimes hummed when they danced, just an idle rise and fall of his voice over songs they didn’t even know.

And he loved dancing with Lance. He used to hate to dance but when he got to do it with Lance in his arms, the entire activity changed. And somewhere along the line, being pressed to Lance had changed from filling him with desire to filling him with comfort. Sure, desire still swirled lazily in the background, but when Lance smiled up at him or leaned up to whisper a joke in his ear, Keith couldn’t help but feel right. One evening, late in the celebration, the music had slowed and Lance had lain his head against Keith’s shoulder, nose just barely brushing against the base of Keith’s neck, breath tickling against the skin. Keith had been happy that Lance couldn’t see his face, as he knew he must have been grinning.

That was the latest they ever stayed at one of those parties. On the walk back to his room, Lance had been soft and sleepy, leaning heavily on Keith and letting him guide them through the quiet halls. At the door, Lance had gazed at him, expression unreadable. Keith had nearly kissed him. He still wondered what stopped him. Perhaps it was the hint of sadness lingering in those deep blue eyes.

They’d said their goodnights like usual, and Keith had gone to his room, thankful for the privacy (and taking full advantage of the time all alone), yet still imagining what it would be to bring Lance back with him, or to join him in his room; to whisper secrets into the night; to hold him as they fell asleep and to wake up next to each other. He wanted to be the first thing Lance saw in the morning and for Lance to be the last thing he saw at night.

With this thought in mind, he stepped out onto the balcony with Lance and the prince. They were huddled against the railing, Lance’s back pressed against the smooth stone and the prince pressed against him, hands sliding up and down his sides, slipping over the silken material of the traditional outfit he'd been given. Keith saw red, but remained still. He cleared his throat loudly, interrupting the giggles coming from the pair. The prince’s hands moved possessively down to Lance’s thigh, squeezing just to make him squeal before looking back over his shoulder.

“Well, if it isn’t the black paladin,” he purred. Lance registered the words slowly, head rolling to look questioningly at Keith in the moonlight.

“Keith,” he said, half question, half statement. “What’re— Why—”

“Lance, would you like to head in?” Keith asked, stepping closer.

“I think the red paladin is doing just fine,” the prince answered, hands shifting and making Lance gasp. He squirmed, eyes filling with questions as he looked nervously between the prince and Keith.

“If Lance wants to stay, he can tell me himself,” Keith said firmly, stepping forwards and reaching past the prince to lay a hand on Lance’s shoulder. He let it slide up along his neck, thumb brushing the corner of his jaw as his other fingers slid back to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. Lance looked at him wide eyed and Keith just smiled gently. He squeezed the back of Lance’s neck gently and he shivered, mouth falling open and tongue sliding quickly against that full bottom lip. Keith heard the prince’s teeth grind together and barely withheld a smirk.

“Lance, do you want to leave? I think it's probably time for you to sleep,” Keith said gently. Lance blinked slowly, making Keith worry about how much he'd been drinking, and making him especially wary of the prince, who seemed more than content to press his advantage.

“I, um…” he looked away, eyes closing for a moment, “I don't— I don't know what to do.”

“Come now, Loverboy,” the prince said, touching his cheek to Lance's and whispering against his ear. “Why don't you stay with me?”

“I— that's not my name,” Lance said, pouting. He pushed against the prince’s chest, reaching over to grab Keith's wrist where it rested on his shoulder. Keith took the action as permission, moving his fingers from Lance's neck to stroke his cheek.

“Why don't we go get you some water, hm?” Lance nodded slowly and Keith wasted no time extricating him from the prince’s grip, none too gently pulling his hands from Lance's waist and thigh. He slipped an arm around Lance's shoulders, pulling him flush to his side and bustling him back inside. Lance followed quietly, a hand fisted in Keith's jacket as they moved through the party, not even stopping until they'd reached the quiet safety of the hall. Away from the music, Keith heard the quiet giggles escaping Lance with each step.

“What's so funny?” Keith asked, looking down at the flushed boy at his side. Lance closed his eyes and shook his head, nuzzling into Keith’s chest. They kept walking, Lance’s giggles turning into hiccups, and his steps slowing down. “C’mon, Lance. We’re almost there,” Keith cajoled, moving his hand around Lance’s waist to pull him back upright.

“Carry me,’ Lance said pitifully, dropping his full weight against Keith. Surprised, Keith stumbled back against a wall, managing to keep them upright, but just barely. Lance landed against his chest, nuzzling sleepily beneath Keith’s chin. “Carry me,” he whined again, pressing his entire body against Keith’s, pushing him back into the cold stone wall— the only thing seeming to save him from the heat flaring in his chest. Lance pushed against him, slotting their legs together and resting his chin on Keith’s collarbone. “Pretty please?” he continued, breath fanning hot and moist against Keith’s neck.

Keith swallowed thickly, praying momentarily for restraint.

“Ye-yeah,” he said, nodding dumbly. “Okay, I can do that.” Lance smiled, a wide, sleepy thing. Lance slid his hands up Keith’s arms and Keith barely withheld a shudder. Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s neck, resting his head against his shoulder. Keith slid his hands around Lance’s waist— had it always been so narrow?—before slowly, reverently, moving them down Lance’s sides. The action was so similar to the prince’s hands before, and he furrowed his brows, pressing firmly as if it would let him erase the prince’s touch entirely.

Lance shivered against him, arching against his chest as Keith’s hands moved down, pressing firmly over the curve of his hips before reaching down to his outer thighs. He gripped firmly, lifting Lance up and stepping away from the wall. Lance’s breath hitched and his eyes went wide as he was raised, but he wrapped his long legs around Keith’s hips, settling his weight in the other boy’s arms with a small, sleepy smile.

He pulled his arms back from around Keith’s shoulders, lifting his hands to stroke either side of Keith’s face. His fingers traced from his ears, to the top of his forehead, down his nose, under his eyes. It was like Lance was mapping his face, trying to memorize the expression that Keith knew was open admiration. He simply smiled, revelling in the easy moment— the weight of Lance in his arms, the dry warmth of his fingertips, the soft, curious look in his eyes. Finally, Lance sighed, closing his eyes and leaning to rest his forehead on Keith’s shoulder.  Keith slowly began walking, taking his time as if trying to make the moment last.

“You take care of me,” Lance sighed, wrapping his arms back around Keith’s shoulders.

“I like taking care of you.”

“It’s your job to take care of me,” Lance said, voice turning sad. Keith frowned.

“Well, yes, but I also like to do it. I like knowing you’re safe and—” he nearly choked at the thought that fell into his head “—and I feel safe with you,” he admitted, the heat of Lance and the quiet of the darkened corridor turning him suddenly, helplessly honest. “And I think you feel safe with me. Here in my arms, it’s like— it’s like you belong here.”

He stopped in the middle of the hall, and Lance raised his head slowly, peeking at him. Keith lifted him higher, looking up at Lance and meeting his eye in the low, warm light.

“I think you belong here,” Keith said firmly, tightening his grip on Lance to illustrate his point. “Here, with me. By my side, in my arms, and— and in my heart, Lance. God, you’ve just made your way into my core. It feels like everything now just leads back to you.”

He looked up at Lance, who had gone still in his arms. Lance looked down at him, eyes dark and chest rising and falling as his breath hitched. His hands came to rest at the base of Keith’s neck and he leaned down the slightest bit before stopping.

“Keith?” he rasped, voice barely a whisper in the silence of the hall.

“Lance.”

“I want to kiss you now. Can I?”

Keith couldn’t help a smile.

“I’d like that,” he said quietly, raising his face to Lance’s. Lance slid his hands up from Keith’s neck, one cupping his cheek and the other moving back to tangle in Keith’s hair, before his eyes fluttered shut and their lips came together.

It was clumsy and slow. The angle was off and Lance’s breath smelled like sweet wine, but they had never shared a moment more perfect.

They pulled apart slowly. Lance said nothing, simply smiling sleepily at Keith. He touched their foreheads together, rubbing them together with a quiet hum. Keith huffed out a laugh.

“Let’s get you to your room,” Keith said quietly. Lance made a small, grumpy sound, but Keith kept walking, realizing with embarrassment that they were only around the corner from Lance’s door. He supported Lance with one hand, opening the door carefully and pushing inside. He walked Lance to the bed, setting him down carefully. Lance didn’t let go however, keeping his legs tight around Keith’s waist, forcing him to hover over him on the bed. He blushed at the implication.

“Lance—”

“Kiss me again,” Lance demanded, moving his hands back up to Keith’s hair. Keith groaned, letting his head fall to Lance’s shoulder. He took a deep breath, shaking his head reluctantly and reaching back to tug Lance's legs loose. They landed splayed on the bed and the image very nearly undid Keith as he righted himself. Lance followed, sitting up and scooting to the edge of the bed. He pushed his face into Keith's stomach, hugging him around the waist before tilting his head back to look wistfully up at Keith.

“Kiss me,” he said again, pouting slightly. Keith smiled down at him, carding one hand through his hair and moving it to cup Lance's cheek. He rubbed a thumb over the smooth skin. He leaned down, kissing Lance gently, sliding their lips together and relishing in the happy little sigh the other boy made. Keith pulled back slowly, not even opening his eyes as he lingered, face mere millimeters from Lance’s.

“Again,” Lance whispered. Keith was helpless to oblige, leaning in eagerly. They kissed once, again, and again. They kissed so long that Keith’s back began to feel the bend and he sank to his knees in front of Lance, sliding between the other boy’s legs and sliding his arms around his waist. Lance hummed happily and his tongue slipped against Keith’s lips, seeking entry. Keith opened to him, tangling their tongues together and groaning low in his throat. He held Lance tight, squeezing gently as Lance’s hands danced through his hair. Keith nibbled on Lance’s lower lip and he keened, pulling away with a gasp. Keith stayed in place, kissing down his chin and into the warm, soft skin of Lance’s throat.

Feeling daring, he licked against the soft skin, earning a small gasp. Tentatively, he did it again. Lance slowly tilted his head back further, exposing the long column of his throat to Keith’s eager mouth. Keith spent a long moment simply looking Lance over: head back in a manner so sweet and trusting, yet chest heaving as he panted and legs splayed wide where Keith was between them. Noticing his stillness, Lance cracked one eye open, pulling one hand back to lean on as he looked down at Keith, the other hand tugging gently at Keith’s hair.

“What’s wrong?” Lance asked.

Keith’s throat went dry. How did he explain that he was frozen with desire? That his every instinct told him to climb up onto the bed and pin Lance beneath him, not stopping until they were both a sweaty mess and all Lance could say was his name. He bit his lip against a groan and hung his head, leaning forwards to press it against Lance’s stomach.

“I should leave,” Keith said, sounding miserable at the prospect.

Lance made a sad sound. “Don’t.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then stay,” Lance pleaded, trailing fingers over Keith’s neck.

“I shouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“You should sleep. And you’ve been drinking.”

“I feel perfectly lucid now,” Lance said.

“You seem more sober, but I don’t want to take any chances. What if you don’t remember this in the morning?” Lance reached down, tilting Keith’s face up by his chin.

“I could never forget this, Keith,” he murmured. Keith swallowed, searching Lance’s eyes for any doubt or hesitation and finding none. He leaned up, kissing Lance again, a soft, chaste press compared to their prior activity.

Keith pulled away with a sigh.

“Lance—”

“Stay.”

“I really shouldn’t,” he said again.

“But you want to,” Lance stated.

“Yes.”

“And you want me.” Again, there was no question in Lance’s voice.

“Yes,” Keith said again. Closing his eyes and nuzzling his head against Lance’s abdominals. The action cause Lance’s shirt to raise, revealing a strip of skin at Lance’s waist that very nearly undid him.  He was drawn to it magnetically, fingers sliding from their place on Lance’s hip to the shirt, lifting carefully and revealing even more smooth, tempting skin. Keith pressed one gentle kiss, then another, causing Lance to giggle. He moved to kiss just above Lance’s hipbone, relishing in the little ‘oh!’ he got. He stayed there, nibbling and licking at the sensitive skin. Lance fisted one hand in the fabric at Keith’s shoulder, squeezing tightly.

“Keith,” he whimpered.

And Keith was gone.

He surged up, claiming Lance’s mouth yet again but this time, holding nothing back. He poured every ounce of latent desire into the kiss, pressing against Lance with a fervor brinking on desperation. He pulled back, panting against Lance’s mouth.

“Take off your shirt and lay down,” He ordered. Lance nodded eagerly, mouth still open as Keith had left it. Keith leaned forwards again, licking into that heat before pulling back and reaching for the hem of Lance’s shirt. He helped Lance out of it before watching him scoot back on the bed, settling against the pillows and and looking heatedly at Keith.

Keith threw off his own shirt crawling forwards to loom over Lance.

“Pants are staying on our bodies, okay?”

“Does around my ankles count?”

Keith growled low in his throat, leaning down to bite none too harshly at the side of Lance’s neck.

“Minx,” Keith scolded, returning to the spot to soothe it with his tongue. Lance arched up into the contact, head rolling back and giving Keith full access. Keith laid down on top of him, pressing their bare chests together and aligning them from shoulder to foot. Lance bit his lip, arching beneath him and causing Keith to groan. He looked down at Lance, reaching a hand into his hair.

Lance looked up at Keith heatedly. He lifted a hand to stroke his face before raising his head, pressing a heated kiss against Keith’s mouth. Keith opened to him immediately, sighing into Lance’s mouth and running his hands down the other boy’s sides. He squeezed his hips, rubbing his thumbs over the low waistline on his pants. Lance made a disgruntled noise, pulling out of the kiss.

“You can’t do that if you’re not gonna take them off,” he complained. Keith smirked and pressed his nose under Lance’s jaw, kissing against his neck.

“Then what can I do?” he asked, sliding his hands down Lance’s hips to stroke over his thighs and squeezing over the fabric. Lance whimpered, spreading his legs as if on instinct. Keith settled between them, squeezing Lance’s thighs tighter, tugging them up his side. Lance wrapped his legs around Keith’s waist and his arms around his shoulders, holding tight as Keith continued to nibble down his neck and over his collarbone.

“You can get a move on,” Lance grumbled, the complaint weak between small gasps.

Keith said nothing, continuing his easy ministrations. He kissed down Lance’s chest, making his way to his nipples, kissing each of them before taking one into his mouth. Lance gasped, legs twitching around Keith, before arching into the contact. Keith slid one hand hand back up Lance’s side to press his thumb against the neglected nipple, rolling it gently then pinching suddenly, earning a jolt from Lance. He moaned low, squirming beneath Keith and pressing his growing arousal against Keith's abdomen.

“You're teasing me,” Lance pouted, pushing at Keith's shoulders.

“Hm?” Keith questioned, not rising off of Lance's nipple.

“Keith!” Lance whined, shuddering as the vibrations hit him. He pushed harder at Keith's shoulders, pulling his hair. Keith groaned, separating with a last, harsh suck before rising slowly. A string of saliva hung between Lance's now swollen nipple and Keith's parted lips. He looked up at Lance through his eyelashes, pupils dilated, leaving his eyes dark and lustful.

“Lance?” He asked, voice low. He continued rubbing Lance's other nipple with his thumb, eyeing the bud carefully.

“I’ve been waiting too long for this for you to keep teasing me,” he said between breaths, tangling his fingers in Keith’s hair.

“Oh really?” Keith smirked. He pinched Lance’s nipple.

“Ah! Why—”

“What exactly were you thinking about?” Keith asked, eyes finding Lance’s as he continued to play with his nipples. “Why don’t you tell me about it? Maybe we had similar ideas?” He kissed down Lance’s chest, licking over his other nipple before moving to suck a mark just below it. Lance tugged Keith’s hair, whining. Keith closed his teeth around the skin in his mouth and Lance yelped, the sound tapering off into a low moan.

“Why don't you— _god_ , Keith, _please_ —  why don't you just _show_ me what you've been thinking about and I'll tell you what I like?” Lance panted, leaning up to watch Keith kiss down his torso.

“And what if I just want to spend some time with you? What if this is what I want to do?” Keith asked, sliding his hands back down to hold Lance's hips steady. He nipped down to the waistband of Lance's pants, holding firmly as he licked along the edge of the fabric.

“Didn't want to do anything, apparently,” Lance groused, shifting his hips restlessly.

“Oh?” Keith teased, pressing forwards between Lance's hips, rubbing his chest against Lance's obvious arousal. “You seem really into me ‘not doing anything.’”

Lance huffed but didn't say anything, looking away from Keith's dark eyes.

“Am I wrong?” Keith chuckled, sitting up between Lance's legs. He looked down at the other boy, who was already flushed and panting against the pillows. “Because from where I'm looking—” he leaned over Lance, supporting his weight with a hand by his shoulder and laying his other hand over the flush on Lance's collarbone. “—you seem to be more than interested.” He slid the hand down Lance's torso slowing as it traveled below his navel, over the beginnings of hair trailing into his waistband and to where the fabric was pulled taut over Lance's erection.

Lance whimpered, biting his lip to try and stay quiet as Keith palmed over his trapped cock, squeezing just enough to make Lance buck his hips. Keith chuckled and leaned down to kiss him, tugging Lance's bottom lip free from his teeth and sucking on the abused flesh. He continued his ministrations with his hand, listening and fighting not to grin as Lance's breaths came faster and faster. He kissed Keith frantically, wrapping arms tight around his neck to pull his hair and scratch at his shoulders. Keith groaned with every touch, finally giving in and laying himself back down over Lance.

He tangled their legs together, slotting his arousal beside Lance’s and relishing in the combined jolt and moan it won him. Lance held him tighter, sliding his tongue through Keith’s mouth as if memorizing it as he panted against the other boy. Keith slid one hand back down to Lance’s thigh, squeezing at the muscle there, earning a shudder and giggle from Lance. He pulled out of the kiss, laughing again as Keith didn’t separate, instead moving to kiss along his jaw to his ear.

“You like my legs,” Lance said between breaths. Keith smiled against his neck.

“That’s true,” Keith whispered, moving up to nibble below Lance’s ear. “But I like your everything else, too,” he said, squeezing Lance’s thigh again before sliding his hand down the back of the muscle, moving curious fingers towards the curve where thigh met ass. He stopped there, grinding lazily against Lance, relishing the hitch in his breath as he quivered with anticipation. Lance rolled his hips against him, arching and moaning beneath Keith, who was now panting as well. He mouthed at Lance’s neck, sucking hickies into the sensitive skin where it met his shoulder. Lance’s hands ran all over his body as he moved, squeezing Keith’s shoulders, scratching his back, and pulling his hair before Lance finally gave in to the pleasure building inside him, moaning Keith’s name with a heat that ran through the other boy.

In a moment, Keith had bit down against Lance’s neck, causing him to groan, and pressed him hard into the bed with his full weight. He moved both hands to Lance’s hips, guiding him into a quick paced roll before moving up to kiss Lance again, plundering his mouth, nearly growling against the other boy’s tongue. Lance moaned beneath him, nodding in encouragement and squeezing Keith’s biceps, feeling the muscles move beneath his hands as Keith lay against him.

They pulled out of the kiss gasping for breath. Keith pressed their foreheads together, looking down at Lance’s flushed face, eyes closed tight and mouth hanging open.

“Look at me,” he pleaded, pressing a quick kiss to the corner of Lance’s open mouth. He tangled their tongues together for just a second before pulling away again. “C’mon Lance, lemme see those eyes.” he brushed their noses together, the action surprisingly gentle for the frantic movements happening below. Lance’s eyes fluttered open, blue nearly abolished by his blown pupils. He met Keith’s eyes, shuddering at the combination of the intensity in that gaze and Keith’s hips moving _just right_ against his own.

They ground together for just a moment longer, Keith’s movements growing quicker and harder against Lance before he gasped Lance’s name, pressing one last desperate kiss against Lance’s mouth and coming against the other boy, thrusting once, twice against Lance’s still frantically rolling hips. Lance began to whine beneath him, movements growing desperate as he tugged Keith closer, babbling how close he was, how beautiful Keith was as he came, how he’d wanted this so bad for so long—

Keith reached down, none too gently grabbing Lance’s ass and kissing the order “Come,” against Lance’s throat.

Helpless, Lance obeyed, shuddering beneath Keith as he came against the other boy’s hip.

He shivered through the aftershocks, hands still moving restlessly over Keith’s back and shoulders as Keith panted against him, nuzzling into Lance’s well-marked neck. He pressed gentle kisses against the skin, moving his way up to Lance’s mouth. They kissed lazily, sweetly, now that the edge had burned off. Keith rolled off of Lance and onto his side, never disconnecting their lips. He gathered Lance into his arms and Lance cuddled against his chest, hands continuing their little explorations. They kissed until they slowed, Lance’s breath coming easy and slow, the first signs of oncoming sleep.

“Stay,” he said again, a sleepy wish mumbled with a nuzzle beneath Keith’s chin. He tangled their legs together, rubbing at the arm Keith had draped over his waist. Keith didn’t even pretend to resist, simply nodding and pressing a kiss into Lance’s hair. He reached for the covers at the end of the bed, pulling them gently over himself and Lance, who was already asleep in his arms.

**Author's Note:**

> What'd you think? Let me know in a comment or visit me on [tumblr](https://profoundprincessface.tumblr.com/) to watch me collect memes and mourn vine.
> 
> Don't forget to check out [jenners1207's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenners1207/pseuds/jenners1207) work! She's brilliant.
> 
> xoxo  
> ~Tay


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